


No Buttons

by Sproings



Series: Extras: Between Their Names [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Couch Cuddles, Dirty Jokes, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sproings/pseuds/Sproings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky host the first ever No Button dinner party</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Buttons

**Author's Note:**

> You'll probably want to read [ Between Their Names ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4436879/chapters/10080653) before you read this.
> 
> Also, I'm on [tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sproings)

“What’s Rothko, and why does this apple hate it?” Clint said. The apple was sitting in a place of honor, next to the television, and Clint was studying it intensely.

“I am so glad somebody else asked,” said Sam. He and Natasha were on the couch, both of them dressed in sweatpants and t-shirts.

Bucky, dressed in low-slung sweats and a soft, thin shirt that Steve could almost see through (really wanted to see through), was propped against the kitchen doorway. He was long and lean and he was, unbelievably, Steve’s boyfriend. Steve’s hot, funny, Ravenclaw boyfriend.

Bucky caught Steve staring and shot him a little lopsided smirk.

Oh. That look was pure mischief. It was ‘Let’s skip gym class’ (which they’d only done once). It was ‘Meet me in the playground at midnight’ (they’d done that countless times). Steve strongly suspected that one day soon it would be ‘Kiss me, right here in the Art Museum.’ 

He was glad he could count on Bucky to be responsible, because if that look ever turned into ‘Blow me, right here in the Art Museum’ . . .

Steve turned away from thoughts of Bucky’s muffled moans filling the Impressionist Exhibit and tried to focus on the present. Trouble was, he actually knew what those moans sounded like, not just in his imagination, and they sounded like the best thing in the whole damn world, and he had every reason to believe he’d get to hear them again. 

Soon.

Clint was looking at him expectantly, and Natasha was over there silently laughing. Steve squared his shoulders and focused on the apple.

“Mark Rothko. He was a painter,” Steve said. “They called him an Abstract Expressionist, but he didn’t call himself that.” 

Clint’s eyes were already taking on a glazed look, and Steve shot a glance at Bucky, who was barely holding back a smile. 

Steve went on, buying time until just the right moment. “He was known for multifield paintings. Big blocks of color with soft, blended edges . . .”

Clint nodded politely and lifted his beer to take a sip.

“. . . And the apple was Bucky’s way of telling me to hurry up and fuck him.”

Clint didn’t _quite_ spit beer on himself, but it was a near enough thing. “Asshole,” he said companionably.

Bucky grinned and sauntered over to Steve. Just watching him move like that was reward enough, but Bucky pressed in close and wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist. How in the world had Steve gotten so lucky? Bucky, _his_ Bucky, had come back to him after all this time.

Sam was laughing. “Steve used to be so much nicer before Bucky came along.”

“It was really disturbing,” Natasha added, crossing the room to him. “But now he’s saying bad words and everything.”

“Fuck off, Natasha,” Steve said, grinning at her.

She reached out as if she was going to pinch his cheeks, but Bucky swatted her hands away, saying, “Mine. No touching.”

“Whereas none of Steve’s niceness has rubbed off on Bucky,” Sam said, shaking his head.

Bucky smirked. “And you’d think it would, with all the rubbing we’ve been doing.” 

Steve felt himself go scarlet, which had obviously been Bucky’s plan, and Bucky subtly ran his fingers in a teasing arc along Steve’s hip bone.

Clint said to Steve, “You’re sure you like him, in spite of all this?”

“Nah,” said Steve, smiling so Bucky wouldn’t worry too much. “All of this is why I love him.”

Bucky’s smile was spectacular, and Steve couldn’t resist brushing his lips against it. So perfect. 

“Told you he was perfect,” Bucky said to Clint.

“No, you told me he was ‘just so pretty’, and that you used to . . . “ 

Clint paused, and Bucky glared at him. 

“. . . get into fights because of him.” 

Bucky relaxed again. Hmm, what does that mean, Bucky?

One exasperated sigh later, Bucky whispered into Steve’s ear, “I told him about . . . your hands?”

Steve laughed. God, he loved Bucky. “We are definitely going to talk about that later,” he whispered back.

“Just talk?” Bucky said with an exquisite fake pout.

“Absolutely not.” Steve ran his thumb lightly over Bucky’s cheekbone and bent down to kiss him. Thoroughly. 

“Bucky is a very private person,” said Clint.

“Oh yeah?” said Natasha. “So’s Steve. He doesn’t even believe in public displays of affection.”

Bucky pulled away a few millimeters, so his lips still brushed against Steve’s as he said, “You don’t?”

“You’re my exception.”

“Lucky me.” Bucky leaned forward, and Steve was lost in him all over again, in the taste of him and the slick heat of his mouth and the endless tide of love for him.

Bucky went still, and Steve pulled back to give him room. ”We have company,” Bucky said breathlessly, leaning his forehead against Steve’s chest.

“Right. Sorry guys.”

Sam was actually covering his own mouth to keep from saying whatever he was thinking. Jeez.

“We’re really happy for both of you,” Natasha said, without a trace of snark.

Clint smiled. “Yeah. Doesn’t mean we want to watch, though.”

“Speak for yourself,” Natasha shot back, giving him a little shove with her good arm. He rolled his eyes at her.

They ate delivery pizza, because it was a No Button dinner, and that meant no work, too. Bucky and Natasha teased Clint mercilessly about a dog that may or may not be his. Natasha and Sam teased Steve about Bucky and teased Bucky about Steve. Everyone but Sam made as many puns as humanly possible. 

On their way out, Sam and Natasha hugged Steve while Bucky talked to Clint.

“You guys are great together,” Sam said. 

Natasha nodded. “He’s obnoxiously perfect for you. Take care of him.”

“We’ll take care of each other,” Steve said. Sam smiled, and Natasha patted Steve’s arm before the two of them left. It was true. Alone, Steve was good at being good. With Bucky, Steve was good at being himself.

As the door latched, Bucky sighed and rolled his shoulders. Tense.

“Too much people time?” Steve asked, a little nonsensically, but he trusted Bucky to get it.

Bucky must have, because he nodded and touched his forehead with his metal hand. Steve hadn’t quite figured out why Bucky did that when he was upset, but he knew that he did.

Steve put his arm around Bucky and gently led him to the couch. They settled in together, with Bucky in front, giving Steve the chance to massage his shoulders and back. Steve could feel the tension slowly ease out of Bucky’s muscles as he worked, until finally Bucky leaned back against him, soft and pliant. 

“Love you, Buck,” Steve whispered.

Bucky lifted Steve’s hand and kissed it. “Yours forever.”

They turned on the next episode of Angel and stayed up half the night, tangled together on the couch. 

Bucky really was the best thing that ever happened.


End file.
